


whispers

by bombcollar



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombcollar/pseuds/bombcollar
Summary: Allister tries to see if some of the old legends are true.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	whispers

The moon peers through the open top of the empty stadium, a curious eye keeping watch over Allister as he walks with purpose to the center of the field. This is no gym match. He isn't in his uniform, there are no fans ready to be enthralled by the terrifying might of his Ghost Pokemon. There is just him, and the moon, and the Pokeball in his hands. The metal parts never get warm, no matter how he keeps his fingers folded around it. 

When the stadium is quiet like this, it's easier to feel the power spot it's built upon. Even those not sensitive to otherworldly forces could feel it, a deep deep hum, like a hive of insects underground, like the heavy holiness of a cathedral, like the breath inside an open, waiting mouth.

Allister stops in the middle of the arena, looking back over his shoulder to make sure none of the night staff have spotted him. He'd closed the doors behind him, but he couldn't lock himself inside. There was only so much time to do this.The band around his little wrist glows baleful red as holds the Pokeball to his chest, tucked under his chin where his heartbeat fluttered in his neck. The Pokeball expands, and he raises it high above his head, tossing it with all his strength. It sails high into the air and releases a storm of phantasmic energy, black and red and purple coalescing into the gargantuan, gummy form of Gigantamax Gengar. The ghost erupts from the field, toothy maw towering above him, claws grasping at the air... But there is nobody to fight. 

Gengar's grin falters, and she looks to her trainer for some sort of answer as to why they're out here, alone. Allister walks toward her, standing so close to the projection that the energy pouring out of it sends goosebumps rippling across his flesh. A low, inquisitive noise rattles his bones, an inquiry from Gengar, but she quiets as Allister looks up, a finger held in front of the mouth of his mask. Hush. Just for a little while.

Dynamaxing wasn't real. Allister knew this. It was an optical illusion combined with temporary augmentation of a Pokemon's abilities by Dynamax energy. Anything more was simply rumors and legend, which grew like weeds in the stones of Galar's foundation.

_It lays in wait to steal the souls of those who wander too close. Its throat is a passage to the underworld, and if you linger too long at the edge, you will hear the voices of your lost loved ones calling to you, beckoning you to save them. If voices cry out to you in the dead of night, do not listen, and hurry home._

Allister listens.

There are sounds that might be words, that might be sobs or whispers, that might simply be the Pokemon's own breathing, or his mind playing tricks on him. He lowers himself to the ground beside Gengar, hugging his knees. One of the Pokemon's weightless, disembodied hands lays itself delicately on his shoulders. 

"You were hers..." he murmurs, lifting his mask to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. Nobody was around to see, so it was alright. "I just thought, maybe... I dunno, it's stupid." Just an old legend. He of all people ought to know how misunderstood and maligned Ghost types were. Gengar were fascinating and special Pokemon, but they were just Pokemon, like any other. There was no portal to the underworld. There was no way to speak to someone who simply wasn't there.

The Dynamax energy wears off, shrinking Gengar back to regular size. Her spiny ears droop as she looks down at her trainer, still curled upon the ground. She puts her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his hair. For a little while he sits here, quietly sniffling to himself with Gengar's cool weight resting against his back, before he finally stands up and fixes his mask back onto his face. "...it's alright," he says to the Gengar, who blinks at him curiously. "I'll see mum and dad again one day. Thanks for letting me try, though."

Gengar nods, floating up to tousle his hair, just like she'd seen her previous trainer do, years and years ago. 


End file.
